Road block

Last night I looked out the window at 2am and there was a "road block" on our quiet little street.  4 policemen, 2 police vans and lots of flashing red and blue lights were positioned along the road.  And no one, no one drove down the road.  

At one point I thought it was a movie set, but no, it was simply a non event.  

But then I thought that this was just Hong Kong being typically Hong Kong and thinking, "well-we-wouldn't-want-to-create-any-traffic-with-a-road-block-so-let's-do-it-on-a-small-residential-street."  Also, "how-about-we-do-it-on-a-Tuesday-night-so-we-don't-ruin-anyone's-Saturday-night-when-they're-all-happy-and-drunk?"

Wouldn't surprise me.

Hong Kong on a clear day

It's on days like these that I really appreciate living in Hong Kong, and why I sometimes feel quite smug about coming back here after the holidays rather than somewhere a little colder...and damper..

Hong Kong with boat

Star Ferry making its way back from Tsim Sham Shui to Hong Kong

The odd surviving relic from the Victorians

Note the HSBC building behind which was built by Foster (Sir) and famous for its incredible detail to Feng Shui. My favorite part is that it's been built on our very own dragon's lair and so has a gap beneath it which has been specially designed for the dragon to sleep under it, and also to fly through.

Someone told me that at a party ...so don't check my sources...

The Bay. Take that, SF

Waiting for the wind

Left to their fate

There has been much anticipation about the Super Typhoon Megi that's supposed to hit this weekend. People have been scrambling over each other in the supermarkets, rushing down aisles and grabbing all the Campbell's soup from the shelves. Offices have been sending warning signals to employees about shuttle buses and staying far away from moving objects. Workers have been praying for a day off.

This morning, T and I ran up into the howling wind on our roof to tie down the plants, and pull the flowers into the stairwell. I had naively stocked up on foliage this weekend in the Flower Market and do-not-want-to-see-them-dead-in-a-day.

And now, after all of that, the typhoon is "no longer coming directly past us". Shame. We were quite looking forward to all the excitement. Rather anti climatic all round, I'd say.

Cocooning

It's been a grueling week in Singapore rounded off with a knees-to-my-chest flight home.

As a welcome home special, this morning I got caught in the rain. Sorry, the Typhoon. I was minding my own business walking out of the bookshop when it hit. And in Hong Kong, it really hits. It buckets down and often doesn't stop for a good hour or so. As the rain worsened, I went through a mental list of everything I was a) wearing b) had in my bag and c) had on my face (mascara down cheeks? Not good for morale). And decided I had nothing that wouldn't recover after being drenched. And off I plunged. Into the wall of water.

Strangely enough, it was oddly relieving to be in that rain. After about 5 minutes of walking with my dress clinging to me and my hair plastered to my head, I started to feel quite calm. Like the week was washing off me, and that nothing is really that important anyway.

Of course the best thing of all was getting home, diving into the hot shower and bundling up in dry clothes with a cup of my-still-favorite-Nespresso to stare out of the windows as the thunder and lightening hit.

I feel just like just that girl in The Maggie B. Who, for-those-of-you-who-were-deprived-of-the-best-children's-book-on-earth-ever, faces a huge storm while out at sea on her little boat, and comes back inside in the midst of it to cook a delicious, warm dinner for her baby brother and her.

Sleepytime Tea anyone?

My favorite things

I've already shown you the sheep (who's doing fine, by the way - although I think the maid vacuum cleans him as he's getting woolier). So I thought I'd show you some other little things that make me happy in Boom.

Here's Alex, the New Mexican frog who had to have his legs glued back on after a bumpy ride down the backstreets of St Antonio:

The Warhol which was given to me by a friend in New York and which I believe came from poster.com. Transporting that and a mirror from her flat on top of Magnolia bakery to mine resulted in an epic taxi crash:

Stuff White People Like (Standing still at concerts, NPR, Film festivals, Apple, Manhattan and now Brooklyn, Architecture, Obama, Bicycles, Ray Ban). I think these nicely sum up life in New York:

Postcards stuck into frames liven up the stairs to the roof. The cards were given to us at various points by Little Miss Tiny T:

Mexican fish chills on the whitewashed wall. My mum gave me this after disappearing into the depths of DF while I was working on a tequila project:

The goat that warms wires. Or.. a highly dangerous way to cover wires. In case anyone's asking, yes T used to live at the Guitar Center in Union Square:

Surf boards in strange places. Signature T:

East Village Monsters. These remind me of my dentist when I was small - he had them in a huge jar at reception:

Botanists needed

I love to go down to the flower shop in Soho and pick up a bunch of flowers for Boom Boom. I've gone quite a few times now, and the lady finally knows me. What that means, is that she now charges me $60 HKD (6 euros) rather than $100 HKD. And two days ago I felt particularly "chosen" as she actually gave me an extra bunch for free. The fact that both those bunches she gave me are duds is not something I'm ready to talk about.

Anyway, I'm so glad my mum is sailing somewhere in Greece and out of radio contact, as she would turn in her bunk if she heard that I don't actually know either of the names of these flowers. Endless summers in Kirstenbosch gardens, drawing, drying and painting flowers all gone to waste. Pearls before swine.

So, here are the flowers. Can anyone tell me there names? I've googled "white flowers with big stems" already..to no avail..

Who's counting anyway?

T's eldest brother stayed with us this weekend (I say eldest, as before T, there's Little Miss Tiny T and after T come Slightly Older T, Older T and Eldest T).

Anyway, we've always so enjoyed his visits to NY, and were delighted to have him drop by en route back to Paris. As always, T was adamant to make Eldest T re-live his youth before he goes back to his family, where he has to be a responsible citizen again.

All it takes is a Saturday night.

A vodka ice bar.

Yes, I always wear my fur at night.

Priming at Dragon I, followed by thumping house music and girlie cocktails at Drop.

And just as your feet are tired and you're feeling quite satisfied with the evening all round. You have 28 flights of stairs to climb.

Not quite part of the plan.

Three words: typhoon. flood. lift. broken. Four words.

I knew there was a downside to living in the penthouse.

After being escorted to the rear end of our building, where the entrance looks like somewhere you'd never come out alive from. We started to climb the long, winding staircase to bed.

The evening and the rest of the weekend passed before my eyes, and through my knees as I pounded those stairs to the top. Why did we have those-bloody-shots-when-I-don't-even-like vodka. What's-the-point-of-wearing-pretty-shoes-if-you-can't-hike-stairs-with-them. Why-did-I-stop-going-to-the-gym? Do-I-have-enough-milk-for-coffee-in-the-morning?

And worst of all, why has T disappeared to the top already? and why is Eldest T walking 12 times faster than me when-he's-the-one-with-the-family-and-10-years-disadvantage?

Seriously need to get into some sort of presentable shape.

Thank goodness the lift is fixed.

Lady Grace's Guide to Hosting

Home. At last. After 1 week in Kuala Lumpur and 2 weeks in Singapore, I am quite happy to be "home" in Hong Kong. It's not quite home yet, though, as all this traveling has left me a little uprooted. As usual.

Talking of home. A colleague of mine in Singapore, Nss, is the most fantastic hostess ever known to mankind. I spent last week working at her house (yes, we work from home when we have high pressure deliverables, so we can have easy access to alcohol) and she had every bell and whistle that could possibly please her guests. I'm not talking about having enough milk (which is sort of where my hostess skills begin and end). I'm talking all alcohol (4 different types of Vodka, beer, gin, rum, sake etc), 2 brimming wine fridges, a jucuzzi with waterproof speakers, stashes of boxes of truffles...the list is endless. And, most importantly, Priscila the maid, who razzles up 3 star michelin food from recipe books that her "madam" directs her to and who runs out to the supermarket, rain or shine, with scribbled lists requesting "more fresh flowers" and "more Dettol"..Nss is also a clean freak.

So, after spending a week padding around her teak floors and occasionally feeding the fish in the indoor pond. I started to write a mental list of "things I should spend more money on at home." When I say "I", I'm actually referring to "T", as he's been holding the forte while I've been traveling (aka not watering the plants and stocking up on pasta). So far, T has gone out and bought a seriously sexy Nespresso machine and milk foaming device, which is our first step to luxury living. On that note, I'm off to have my 3rd cappuccino of the day.